Chapter 8 - BUILDING SEVENTEEN
Building seventeen was an abandoned warehouse outside Dallas.
Federal agents surrounded it.
Inside were financial records.
Servers.
Passports.
Photographs.
And evidence connecting Victor to Arthur.
Victor was there.
He stood behind a desk.
He didn't look surprised.
“I wondered when you'd arrive.”
I stared.
“You killed Julian.”
He shook his head.
“No.”
“You worked with Arthur.”
“Yes.”
“You controlled Garrick.”
“I influenced him.”
“You destroyed my family.”
“No.”
“Your family destroyed itself.”
I hated that the sentence sounded almost reasonable.
Victor continued.
“Julian was going to expose us.”
“Arthur panicked.”
“You used him.”
“Yes.”
“You let him kill my husband.”
Victor looked away.
“I didn't order it.”
“You allowed it.”
“Yes.”
That was worse.
He admitted it without remorse.
Then he revealed the final plan.
Victor wanted control of the Vance estate because it contained a portfolio of properties worth more than anyone realized.
But Julian had hidden the true assets.
Victor had spent years trying to locate them.
The $30 million shadow trust was only one piece.
There were additional holdings.
Land.
Patents.
Real estate.
And a private investment portfolio.
Victor wanted all of it.
“You never cared about Garrick.”
“No.”
“You never cared about Arthur.”
“No.”
“You cared about money.”
“Money is power.”
I looked at him.
“No.”
“Money is a tool.”
“People decide what it becomes.”
Victor laughed.
“You sound like your husband.”
“That is a compliment.”
Then the federal agents entered.
Victor was arrested.
He tried to flee.
He failed.
The network collapsed.
The remaining offshore accounts were seized.
The shell companies dissolved.
And the final assets were returned.
But there was one thing Victor had hidden.
A letter from Julian.
I opened it.
Elena,
if you are reading this, then everything has already happened.
I am sorry.
I should have told you.
But I wanted you to know that I was fighting for you.
Not the company.
Not the money.
You.
If I cannot protect you myself, I hope you will learn to protect yourself.
Never let anyone convince you that being kind means being weak.
I cried.
For the first time since his death, I stopped blaming myself for what happened.
Julian had tried.
He had known.
May you like
He had fought.
And now I could finally stop carrying the guilt.
